“What about the communication stations in California and Madrid?” asked Bergman.
As if he could read Bergman’s mind, Pete said, “We’ve learned that NASA’s other two complexes have been targeted as well. I’ve sent teams to each site. But yours is particularly important, because somewhere in the area the shaman who plotted this entire fiasco is pulling the strings. The name of his warren is N’Paltick. Find it, figure out how to discredit him, and we believe the Ufranites will abandon this plan for good.”
“Discredit? Or destroy?” asked Bergman dryly.
Vayl and I traded glances. “We are not in the business of creating martyrs,” he said. “If Jasmine and I find an opportunity to reveal this shaman’s true colors to his followers, we will take it.” Pete seemed to look at me again. Kinda freaky. Like the Jesus picture in Granny May’s pastor’s home.
We’d only gone once, to drop off a loaf of banana bread when his wife had died. Those eyes had followed me everywhere. And they hadn’t been happy with me. Pete, at least, seemed halfway content.
“The Oversight Committee has completely backed off, Jaz. Relax. Do your usual excellent job. You have nothing to worry about from here.” He cleared his throat. “And as long as I’m around, you never will.” His image blinked out. I blinked a couple of times too. Wow. Did he have any idea how long I’d been hoping to hear those words?
I felt a smile lift my lips as I rounded another curve. I gave the Wheezer more gas, basking in job-security glow, enjoying the fact that I got to drive on the left side of the road again. You know what would make this moment perfect? If the Clubman was a Maserati. And Vayl and I were alone on his island, rushing toward one of our who-can-get-naked-fastest evenings in his cool, shadowy bedroom, which always smelled like pine and fresh oranges.
Cole snapped me out of my daydream by asking, “Is there any way to kill the larvae while they’re still in the carrier? You know, some kind of shot or something?”
I felt the corners of my mouth drop. What kind of friend pulls a chimp move like that and throws poop all over your fantasies? One who sucks almost as bad as your life , said that nasty new voice. I sawed at my shoulder as I said, “Doctors haven’t found a way to dump the larvae from the bloodstream once they’re ingested.”
“Ugh! You mean the computer guy ate them?” asked Cassandra. She looked down at Jack. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?” He nodded, his expression assuring her his tastes definitely ran to gnome slugs.
Vayl said, “More likely he drank them. The eggs are tiny after all. It is only after they reach the bloodstream that they experience their first metamorphosis.” Bergman said, “So there’s no way we could save these guys?” I caught his drift. Anybody who’d made the Odeam team had to be popping the lid off the IQ container. So he kinda connected.
Vayl took off his sunglasses, his icy blue eyes pinning Bergman in place. “Bob Green was carrying the seeds of a space complex’s destruction. He died because he cared more about buying an in-ground pool than he did about his country. After a day’s delay to regroup, the team is back on track, due to arrive in Wirdilling later this evening. We do not know if Green’s replacement will be carrying the larvae, or if an original team member had already agreed to act as backup. Our sources are only certain that another has taken his place, and NASA is deeply worried that he will succeed where his predecessor failed.” Cole spoke up. “Hopefully the bug I planted on Ruvin will clear up the situation for us right away.
Maybe we’ll be able to take this guy out tonight and spend the next couple of days exploring the bush.”
“Why would we want to do that?” asked Bergman.
Cole blew a bubble, and for a second the scent of cinnamon filled the car. As soon as it popped and he’d licked up the mess he said, “Besides my professional goals, I have a couple of private ones, my man. One of those is to pet a kangaroo before I leave Australia. I understand there’s lots of Eastern Grays around this area. What do you say? Are you in?”
Bergman looked at him like he’d just made the worst financial investment of his life. “Kangaroos are wild animals. I’ve heard they claw like girl fighters and kick like jackhammers. You’re going to get your skull crushed.”
Cole held up a finger. “Or I’m going to pet a kangaroo. How cool would that be?” Deciding not to waste any more time on the crazy man, Bergman turned back to Vayl. “What happens if we can’t stop the carrier?”
Vayl pulled in a breath. “America faces catastrophe, and not just the sort Pete mentioned. Because NASA administrators fear if their communications facilities are crippled, their program could be halted just when they have begun to receive signals from deep space.” Though I’d heard this before, I still couldn’t quite believe it. Pete had left it up to Vayl whether or not to share this morsel, so the kids in the back were hearing it for the first time. They received the news with varying reactions.
Cassandra nodded, as if unsurprised by the fact that somebody way the hell out there might want to give us a call.
Cole slammed his hand against the roof of the car. “I knew it! I’ll bet they have gigantic pear-shaped heads and goggle eyes too!”
Bergman cocked his head sideways in the show-me-proof gesture that had started many of our college debates. He said, “Assuming I believe that last part, which could be all kinds of noise having nothing to do with alien language, I still don’t quite buy the gnomes wanting to destroy NASA. That seems like a lot of work to protect Ufran’s privacy.”
“Maybe they’ve heard about the alien contact,” said Cole, his eyes still shining at the idea. “Maybe they’re so freaked they’re trying to shut it down before the rest of the world finds out.” Cassandra shook her head. “No matter why they’ve put this plan in motion, you have to agree they’re a proactive bunch.”
I nodded. “Luckily, so are we.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY
Idon’t know what it is about college kids. Maybe tuition also buys them the knowhow to squeeze large numbers of people into small spaces such as telephone booths and imported vehicles. Whatever the case, we all managed to find a tiny bit of butt room inside the Hyundai. Dachelle drove, while Gabbie shared the front with Cole and Jack, both of whom spent most of the ride hanging out the window, which provided some relief to their fellow sardines. That left Kyphas, Rory, Lance, and me to rub hips, thighs, and damn near everything else in our effort to catch up to the escaping Ufranites. Among us, only Astral seemed comfortable, lying in the back window like an Egyptian statue. Luckily she’d obeyed my demand to stay silent. So far.
Since Kyphas kept adjusting her position on Rory’s knees without raising even a moan, I thought he’d passed out until he reared his head back, snorted, centered his eyes on me, and asked, “So what’re you doing at Wirdilling?”
“We work for a movie company called Shoot-Yeah Productions. Our boss sent us out to scout locations for some night scenes, but we have to get back to town quick because he’s lined up a bunch of auditions that we’re supposed to tape.”
“At 3:30 in the morning?” asked Dachelle.
“We’re still working on American time,” Cole drawled.
I rolled my eyes. If everyone but Dachelle hadn’t been so wasted they’d never have swallowed such a line of crap. But the designated driver had her hands so full trying to make her friend behave she had no room left in her bullshit net for our load.
She yelled, “Gabbie! Quit rubbing Thor’s leg! I’m sure he doesn’t want a quickie with a drunken Biology major.”
“Who would?” asked Rory. Lance giggled.
“You blokes are flaming jerks!” Gabbie declared.